


Family

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 08:51:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16215638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: Jackson/William babysitting Mulder and Scully's daughter.





	Family

She won’t stop crying. He’s tried feeding her, rubbing her belly, her back, walking her up and down the stairs, changing her diaper, standing at the window and pointing out the constellations. He even sung a lullaby but she howled louder and bunched her tiny fingers into angry fists. She’s in her crib, tiny bubbles of tears wetting the corners of her eyes, legs pumping at her chubby knees and pitiful sobs shuddering out of her mouth. He knows she’s exhausted but won’t give in. She’s a Mulder. She’s a Scully. 

He drops into the rocking chair and pushes it back lightly as she wails again. He won’t call. He can’t. They’re enjoying a first night out. Scully had to pull the baby off Mulder’s chest to leave. She clung to her father like a limpet. They promised to be back before midnight. Mulder joked he would turn into a pumpkin way before then.

“I’ll be a pumpkin for my punkin,” he said but he wasn’t really laughing at his own joke. Scully was committed to the plan, though. This was good for them. This was the right thing to do. This was what normal families did. 

“We need to show her we can be independent,” she said and didn’t look back when they opened the door. 

“I think that’s the wrong way round,” Mulder huffed, as he practically walked backwards down the step, blowing kisses at his daughter.

It’s only 8.47pm. Jackson sighs into his open palms and lets the hot breath wash over him. Was he this difficult? Probably. Definitely. He reads from one of the picture books on the shelf. Some story about an alien crash-landing on earth and making friends with a weird kid. He checks the author name on the cover and wonders if Mulder had a pseudonym.

He said he wouldn’t do it. He shouldn’t do it, but a fresh round of crying makes up his mind. He concentrates on the row of photos on the wall, shakes his head to knock away the sliver of guilt wedged in his chest and does it. He leans over the crib and scoops her up, murmuring about Squatchin’ and baseball and EBEs.

“Hey punkin,” he says into her ear in a voice that feels as familiar as it does distant and she pummels her fist against his chest for a moment before resting her cheek into the crook of his neck and breathing out a long, steady sigh. She lets out a series of tiny sounds before her head feels heavier against him. He hears Scully in his head. She’s tutting quietly and he imagines her rolling her eyes. He shrugs and the baby shifts and settles again.

Outside, the air is still warm. He sits on the verandah, in Mulder’s chair. A warm breeze ruffles her hair against his chin. It’s a strange feeling. Sitting on the deck at this house. Watching the spread of stars sparkle with possibility across the wide sky. An infant - his sister - clinging like a limpet to his chest. It takes him a while to understand what’s happening. He closes his eyes and sees windmills and farmland and his other parents. He feels warm inside and out. 

Family. It’s safe and comfortable. It’s what she deserves, what he craves. What Mulder and Scully offer. Like Mulder, he knows the truth is out there, yet he knows the truth is horrifying. And like Scully, he knows that science offers answers, yet he knows that science also bears some responsibility. 

But for now, he thanks the truth and science for his abilities and he lets his “punkin” sleep on her “daddy’s” chest because it feels safe. For her and for him. Because they’re family.


End file.
